


Cittiville Wanderer

by Subtle_Shenanigans



Category: Scooby-Doo where are you
Genre: ? - Freeform, Cittiville is the place, Comedy, Gen, Horror, I Tried, Minor Character Death, Mystery, Plot? What Plot?, The Wanderer, Weird Plot, do no repost on another site, headcanons, is the monster, look this is a hard show to write for, mystery gang - Freeform, no beta we die like men, tw mentioned murder, you can pry my platonic headcanons from my cold dead hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 09:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21051917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Subtle_Shenanigans/pseuds/Subtle_Shenanigans
Summary: “ ‘White-draped with eyes boring from the dark, does he wander in solitude; he is pale as bone emerging from the gloom, eyes dripping black, black with old congealed blood’. . .”During a stop in the town of Cittiville, the Mystery Gang come across a monster terrorizing is the local people and their livelihood.





	Cittiville Wanderer

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so yes this is the ‘October Special’ I’ve been grueling over. No, it’s not brilliant nor particularly good plot-wise. But! It was fun to write.
> 
> I have a really bad head-cold with a migraine so the end may be sloppy. Imma post this and then rest up I think.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy this mess!!

“Well gang; looks like we’re here.”

There was a jolt as the van settled into park; Shaggy winced, sharing a look with his dog, Scooby, before leaning forward to see through the windshield.

It was a small town, surely as can be; the gray clouded sky and wispy, barren trees heralding a sparse autumn. They had stopped near an older motel, the only other building in sight an aged gas station across the way.

Fred - or Freddie, as his friends called him - took the lead, leaving the van. “I’ll book us a room, guys; bring in what you don’t want to leave in the van!”

Daphne wasted no time in going around to yank open the back doors; Velma, the only other girl in the group, wandered off, muttering about scoping the area near them.

“Well, don’t just stand there! Off my bag!”

Shaggy complied, scooting the suitcase towards her. Then he and Scooby began to look through their shared bag.

It always began this way; hear about a new mystery, drive hell knows where, stay in a shady, run-down place, getting chased by monsters who ended up being something worse, and almost get killed.

He hated it.

But he also couldn’t imagine any other life.

Thus was the way of things.

* * *

The Mystery Gang, as they’d been called, had started out as nothing more than a bunch of kid-neighbors bored out of their minds.

In their old hometown Crystal Cove, they’d met during an incident at one of the parents barbecues. All the neighborhood kids had been invited.

Amongst those was a hungry boy and dog who’d run into - quite literally - a booksmart girl with the quickest wit they’d ever seen. 

And then a blond boy and red-headed girl had crashed into _ them _, after being chased by a kid who had decided to bully them.

Which resulted in all of them being chased.

Freddie - natural leader, as he was - declared that the kid (his name had been Damon Fargrass) was a liar and a thief and that he’d prove it with his new friends.

It wasn’t all that hard; it was a more rugged version of their eventual normal arrangement, but it had ended in them finding Missus Byle’s wedding ring and proving that it had been Damon Fargrass to begin with.

Aaaaand of course things escalated from there.

Town rumors. Ghost stories. School gossip. From the mundane to the insane, the five of them could be found at the center of it all, to the irritation and chagrin of many.

At least until their second year of High School, when they caught a serial killer who had been preying on the young men and women in town.

That brought appreciation.

And through it all - high school, attempted jobs, family funerals, relationships attempted and never lasting - they stayed fast. They were friends. Family.

And apparently damn good at mysteries.

So one day Fred drove up with a clunker of a van, sheepishly asking if they’d all like to just get the heck out of Crystal Cove and, dunno, go chase some mysteries.

So they had.

And not a single one of them regretted it.

* * *

“I’m regretting this.”

“Oh, come on Shaggy,” Fred put his hands on the other’s shoulders, “it’s not so bad.”

Shaggy turned to give him a flat look, though his voice contrasted with strangled fear. “_ Freddie _ , those are _ black widows! _”

“And we can shoo them away easily enough.” Velma scooped the two spiders up with an old paper cup, and tossed them out the window. “See? All gone.”

Fred gave him a grin.

Daphne chimed in. “I dunno, I’m sorta with Shaggy on this one. What if they get back in?”

“Then Scoob’ll eat them,” Velma deadpanned.

“Nuh-uh!”

This led to bickering, which Daphne rolled her eyes at, and Fred shook his head fondly.

Shaggy snickered, then began setting up his and Scoob’s bed; there were only two beds available, unfortunately, and an armchair. While normally there wouldn’t be an issue with them arranging sleep (they were all just friends and grew up together; there was no embarrassment about sleeping arrangements amongst, as they had all piled in the back of the van on more than one chilly night), the beds were kinda small. Only Shaggy was lanky enough to share space with the Great Dane, and Fred was built like a truck compared to the rest of them, so he had graciously offered the other bed to the girls, while he would sleep in the armchair.

It hadn’t even really been spoken or argued. It just had been, easy as that.

“Well I’m going to check out the bathroom and make sure there aren’t any other creepy-crawlies,” Daphne sulked. 

“And then you’ll take an hour long shower and use all the hot water, won’t you?” Shaggy quipped.

“Ooh! You!” She stomped her foot, huffing.

“Oh you know he’s just ribbing you,” Fred said without looking up from organizing his own belongings. “Let it go you guys.”

Shaggy shrugged apologetically at Daphne and she pouted. He knew he was forgiven as she turned away without another word.

“You should be nicer, Shaggy,” Velma eyed him, “after all, she _ does _ take care of your hair cuts.” They could hear the creaky shower as it turned on.

“Yeah yeah yeah; _ very _ funny. I doubt she’d give _ anyone _ but her worst enemy a bad haircut.”

“Ruh-huh; rhe’s rot mean.”

Shaggy slung an arm around Scooby. “See? Even Scoob agrees.”

Fred smothered a laugh. “Well, anyways; I’m gonna go down to the lobby and ask the receptionist some questions. Think you boys can handle fixing dinner?”

Shaggy placed a hand on his heart. “Who do you think we are?”

Scooby copied with clumsy paws. “Reah? Roo do rou rhink rwe are?”

Velma rolled her eyes. “Well, don’t burn down this place’s kitchen. I’m gonna join Fred.”

Freddie stood, dusting off his pants. “Okay, we'll meet back here for dinner and talk about this Wanderer problem.”

* * *

“The Cittiville Wanderer: showed up about three months ago, around the same time that the Annason’s antique shop went under. After that, businesses started dropping like flies. Damien’s carpets. Delores’ little market. Tony’s Pizza-”

There was an audible gasp at this; Velma fixed Shaggy and Scooby with a harsh glare.

“As I was saying,” she pushed up her glasses, “the same time that this spook showed is when a lot of family owned establishments started to die out. Tony’s pizza is one of the few corporate owned, and that was only last week.”

“Aw man,” Shaggy whined. “We could’a had _ pizza? _”

“Don’t feel bad Shaggy,” Freddie pat him on the shoulder, “this meatloaf and mashed potatoes is really good.” Daphne nodded.

“_ A- _ ** _hem_ **,” They turned back towards Velma guiltily, “anyways, I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that these all might be connected.”

Freddie nodded. “Descriptions of the monster?”

“ ‘White-draped with eyes boring from the dark, does he wander in solitude; he is pale as bone emerging from the gloom, eyes dripping black, black with old congealed blood’ oooooooh,” she recited, waggling her fingers.

Scooby and Shaggy yipped, smacking into one another as they got up to run. “_ Zoinks! _”

“There’s no monster yet, you guys,” Velma dead-panned.

“But, it won’t be long,” Freddie smiled widely, “Velma, where do you think we should start?”

The girl in question took off her glasses and cleaned them on the end of her orange sweater. “Hmm, he’s typically seen in the fields late at night. But I’d also be concerned about which business would be struck next.”

Daphne decided to jump in. “Which stores are left?”

Velma shrugged. “It’s a small town. There’s maybe ten other buildings in town? One is definitely a post office, which I don’t think will be bothered.”

“Are they all family owned?” The other girl asked.

“I’m not sure. But the general store, well, Greg the doorman, he says that they signed with some other businesses and agreed to sell their products, so they’re not exactly straight-up tied in with other corporates.”

“Jeez,” Shaggy shook his head, “if it was the newer businesses going out I’d think it was just ‘cause the old spook doesn’t want ‘progress’ or something.”

Scooby looked at him and nodded in agreement.

Freddie seemed deep in thought, leaning on his hand and looking forward to nothing. “You have a point.”

“Could also be some ancestor upset that the family business are going out, I suppose.” Velma added.

They fell to quiet contemplation as they finished their dinner.

Once the plates had been cleared and then passed around, the stack of ceramic clinking together as Daphne set it aside, Freddie announced the plan he’d been ruminating on.

“Tonight we’ll sleep; tommarrow we’ll go into town. Daphne, you’re with me. We’ll go find the people who lost their stores. Velma, I want you to talk with the post office and store owners; find out who’s signing with who, and any other relevant business. Shaggy and Scooby,” sweat began to bead on _ both _ of their brows, “I want you both to search the field outside of town. With Scooby’s nose and your intuition, I’m sure you’ll find something.” He gave a soft smile that read, loud and clear, _ I know that you both attract trouble like magnets so you’ll probably find out more than us while also being in more danger than us. _

“I was, like, dreading that you’d say that.”

Daphne clapped. “Well! It’s settled! G'night everyone!”

Suck-up.

* * *

_ The mist arose from dead and dying grass; the night air grew both light and heavy, the silky weight pulling at any brave enough to traverse at night, while the dim light tricked the eyes. _

_ If one were traveling on such a night as was Benjamin Arvast, they would see many manner of foul tricks amidst the mist. Rolling images, flickers of fear. And just as same, perhaps, they’d dismiss them as did Mister Arvast. Perhaps they’d even dismiss such notion and continue on the first few steps as a pale shape melted into their vision, a body formed of the mist itself. _

It is late, Mister Arvast, and your wife is at home. Why would one such as you travel alone?

_ And also as such, would one, like the hypothetical Benjamin stop short upon realizing that the figure was closer, more solid than it seemed in the elusive mist? _

_ . . . Would they too, tremble, as though seized with sudden fear? _

**Eyes black and dripping black, like they’d been plucked from its head and dipped in petrol before being placed back. Hands bony and thin, skin so pale almost sickly as the swirling mist itself. It looks nothing like a man in a sheet imitating a spirit. It looks like the mist itself, solid, condensed; where do the hands and arms sprout from, where does the limb begin? **

_ Perhaps if one were, potentially, traveling along the road such a night despite warnings the last few months, and, if possible, encountered a Wanderer the likes of which one would never wish to meet, they would find themselves in a right fine pickle. _

_ Unless of course they were Mister Benjamin Arvast. _

Do you see now? 

_ Because, of course, one in such a situation would become dead. _

* * *

The Mystery Gang woke up in the usual fashion; one by one, silently taking their time to shower and use the bathroom. None of them were really morning people - or at least, they had a harder time waking up and getting moving rather than staying up late (which was a common occurrence with their particular brand of tomfoolery.)

Not to mention that they _ were _ all teenagers, with varying levels of needed sleep, which was hard to come by.

So they in mutual, unspoken agreement, spoke nary a word for the first thirty minutes after naturally waking up.

Unsurprisingly, Daphne was last to be brought to the world. She gave Shaggy a silent glower as he handed her a cup of coffee.

She accepted it and took a swig with a grimace; black, boring coffee was fine by her, but this wasn’t exactly the roast she’d prefer. She knew it was prissy of her so she kept the thought to herself.

Being the last awake meant it was up to her when they could all start talking. She had taken a shower last night so she felt no need to this morning. After a time, she mumbled a ‘thanks’ when Scooby gently brought her a muffin.

That was enough for Fred, who decided to finish breaking the silence.

“Well gang, we’ve got a good plan for the day and an early start; we better move out if we want to meet back for lunch.”

“Like, what if Scoob and I just wait here, and then-”

Velma rolled her eyes and grabbed Shaggy’s shirt and Scooby’s collar, hauling them to their feet with impressive strength. “C’mon you two; I’ll walk you out. See you guys later!” She called the last bit over to Fred and Daphne, who were snickering at the display. Fred may be fairly brawny, but it was _ definitely _ Velma who pulled her weight.

The trip into the main part of town was fairly uneventful; they drove maybe ten or fifteen minutes down a dirt road next to the dead field, the ground leveling after the dip and rolling onwards to the town. Shops rose as they approached: there was a post office, a small bank, a grocer’s. . .the main necessities and then some. They seemed cheerful enough. But then there were the ominous ones, empty and unlit, not even a sign heralding its closure.

Fred parked the van, rolling with it as it clunked into position. Daphne was fixing her hair in a hand mirror, and Velma was muttering in the back. Her words were muffled as she gnawed on her pencil and compiled her notes.

“Okay, we’re here,” he announced cheerfully. 

“. . .But if this is. . .” Velma was muttering to herself.

Daphne sighed. “Velm? Hello? Earth to Velma Dinkly?” She tapped her friend on top of her head.

“Jinkies!” She started. “Don’t do that!”

Fred snickered. “She barely tapped you. Got too absorbed in your notes again?”

“. . .maybe.”

The Mystery Machine creaked as Daphne popped open her door. “Well! No time like the present!”

Velma rolled her eyes and went out the back, while Fred stood and stretched.

“Okay guys, you know the drill. We’ll meet back here in an hour or two, okay?”

Velma saluted. “Aye aye, Captain.” There was that drawl, bordering on sarcasm and playfulness.

Freddie nudged her. “Oh, knock it off. Ready Daphne?”

“Ready, Freddie.”

“Now _ you _hush.”

Velma shook her head, then went off into the post office they had parked next to.

Time to get down to business.

* * *

“I’m telling you, Scoob; we always get stuck with the _ worst _jobs.”

“Ryeah, rou’re right, Raggy.”

His human companion gestured, palms up to the sky. “I mean, c’mon! Freddie just sent us out here ‘cause he knew we were monster magnets.”

Scooby nodded. “Mronster ragnets.”

Although caught up with the momentary indignation, he wasn’t actually angry. Neither of them were. Just _ nervous _. And Shaggy especially tended to complain, the more nervous he got.

“I mean, at least it’s not night, but still!”

“Retter ray rhan nright.”

“And another thing! Is - hey, is that. . .?”

They’d been walking across the desolate field ever since Velma left them at the edge. It was fairly open, and easy to see far distances. But in his rant Shaggy hadn’t noticed the yellow ticker-tape until he got close.

“Zoinks,” he gulped.

“Rolice trape?” Scooby’s eyes were wide.

They looked at one another, in surprise and faint apprehension. 

After many moments of silent communication they decided to get closer.

Fred would want to know, anyways.

* * *

“An’ then Maryl and I came home an’ found the whole place busted up; I’m talking smashed winders an’ the door on its ‘inges. E’er heard of such a thing?”

“Can’t say I haven’t, Sir,” Freddie replies politely. After all, he himself had broken into buildings on numerous occasions.

For good reason of course.

The man, Jefson, shook his head. He had what Fred would call a ‘farmer’s accent’, clipped and drawled. He and his wife Meryl had lost their antique store on a Sunday about three months ago, on account of the Wanderer.

“An’ the walls. All manner o’ marks on them walls. Werds written all bloody-like too.”

Daphne nodded; her hands were clasped behind her back and her attention focused. “And what did they say, Mister Annason?”

The older man laughed dryly. “Didn’t say nuthin’. What was _ written _ was just sum warnin’. ‘ _ Those who don’t move on fall back’, _or sumthin’.”

“ _ ‘Those who don’t move on fall back’ _,” she muttered to herself.

Fred offered the man his hand; when it was gripped he gave it a good, firm shake. “Well, thank you Mister Annason. You’ve been very helpful.” Daphne could tell that Freddie’s grin was genuine, but she can also see the mounting worry hiding in his eyes.

Especially because she felt it too.

They departed after that. It was the last person on their list. All the stories had been similar; their homes and/or stores had been ransacked. Money stolen, deeds shredded - if those hadn’t been found, then the products they sold had been destroyed.

The one absolute had been the message.

“What do you think Velma found?” Daphne ventured.

Freddie, who was thinking deeply, took a moment to answer. When he did, he looked at her and grinned sloppily.. “Probably the missing piece to this mystery.”

* * *

“I found out something _ real _ interesting,” Velma proclaimed. There was smugness, but no arrogance in the statement.

Fred shared a look with Daphne, and both tried not to giggle. Velma either didn’t notice or care.

“Turns out. . .hey, wait, where’s Scooby and Shaggy?”

“Like, right here guys.” Shaggy and Scooby entered the room; they were pale and withdrawn.

Fred’s brow furrowed. “You guys okay?”

Shaggy sat heavily on one of the beds, Scooby slumping at his feet. He took a moment to compose himself. “There’s was- it’s-”

“Romeone ras murdered,” Scooby managed to mumble.

Fred was up in an instant, a hand in Shaggy’s shoulder. Daphne pet Scooby’s head gently.

“Take your time,” he murmured. 

Velma left and came back with a clean dish of water for Scooby, and a cup for Shaggy. His throat bobbed as he gulped it down. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before starting.

“So, Scoob and I are in the field, going back and forth. And man, there was _ nothing _but dead grass I swear. We see somethin’ yellow though in the distance. . . it’s ticker-tape. We go over and. . .”

He shudders. 

“It’s a police line. Closer to the road. Someone was killed the other night; they were still investigating. There was a chalk line and everything!”

“Blood rill ron rhe roor,” Scooby mutters, rubbing a paw against his nose.

“They’re thinking it’s the Wanderer.”

Fred sits next to Shaggy and pats his back. It always seemed that when death was involved with their mysteries, Shaggy and Scooby were the first to spot it. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, well. . .

Freddie could understand why they were out of sorts.

Velma takes to pacing and muttering; it’s not unkindness on her part, nor meant to hurt their feelings. She wasn’t much of a comforter and dealt with things by going through facts and sorting them.

Daphne kept petting Scooby’s head and murmuring comfortingly.

“Well, what did you guys find?” Shaggy pulled himself from his stupor. He probably wasn’t done processing it all but Freddie wasn’t going to say anything if Shaggy just wanted to forget it for now.

This wasn’t the first time they had encountered a murder, nor would it be the last. But like always, they decided to just get through the moment.

“Seems like the local family owned businesses have been being targeted,” he starts. “Same basic story; they come home or enter their shop and the place has been thrashed. Jeez Louise, there’s even a message left behind each time,” he sighs, running his fingers through his hair.

“ ‘Those who don’t move on fall back’,” Daphne intoned.

Velma seemed to perk at this. “Really? Fascinating.”

Daphne snorted. “Not when you’ve heard it _ multiple times _.”

“So what did you find, Velm?” Freddie had gone back to his cheerful leader mode.

Velma spared a glance at Shaggy, but he just tilted his head. She grinned. 

“Looks like you boys were right. It’s definitely the small stores being hit. There were a few other family owned stores, but they had either sold out or partnered with bigger businesses. Even the post office is with US Postal now. Those ones have all been left unscathed and don’t seem to fit the pattern anymore. The ones that do, however, are the family owned ones that refuse to sign with anyone.”

“And it all started with the Annason’s,” Freddie’s voice rose in realization. “I remember that he mentioned having gone off on that one guy, uh, uh,” he snapped his fingers and looked to Daphne.

“You mean William Fedson?” Daphne said cautiously, brow raised.

“Yeah!”

Daphne related that part of the conversation. “You’re right! Hadn’t he said that Fedson had been really pushy? Trying to force him to sign?”

“And he’d refused. Even threatened to rip up the contract.”

Velma blinked slowly. Then turned to the scaredy duo. “Shaggy? I’m sorry to ask this, but did you happen to get the name of the person who died?”

Shaggy shrugged. “Benjamin Arvast, I think?”

She paced once more, this time hand clutching her chin as she thought aloud.

“Arvast, Arvast; the postman said that he was one of the few left.” She turned to Freddie and Daphne. “Either of you hear the name mentioned.”

“Actually, yeah; I think it was Damien who mentioned him.” Daphne hummed. “Something about him retaliating with Fedson.”

“Hey Velm,” Fred drew out her name, carefully, “who else is left?”

“I think. . .maybe one or two people? There’s the flower stall that comes regularly, and then the Jewelry store. It’s owned by a Miss Rachel Stell; she sells handmade crafts and gets her supplies in the next town over, where she lives.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why?”

His grin grew impossibly large. “Because Gang, I’ve got a plan to catch this _ spook _.”

* * *

It was during the cool evening that Rachel decided to close up shop. Dark had already befallen the sky as she gave the key one last twist and made her way home. Her car rumbled softly once she got it started, puttering as she made her way home.

An hour. Two. The mist that shrouded the field flickered and spilled amongst the few buildings that bordered near it. The few electric lights in the small town lit up patches of it eerily; the mist swirled, disturbed as a figure rose up from amongst it, gliding silently towards the jewelry store.

_ STELL-AR JEWELRY _, the sign read.

The figure slipped a long, crooked finger into the lock, shifting it until the door gave a _ click _, and swung open.

Silence.

The Wanderer moved forward, satisfied. No townsfolk were here except maybe a later worker at the post office. The actual homes were a good bit away from the commercial district, after all. It was a small town, and the field was big.

It creeped in, peeling away from the mist, stark white fabric draping to the floor as the illusion was cut in the gloom, the door shutting behind it and the mist that had followed dissipating. A hand, white and thin, trailed along the glass cases, pausing above some of the more precious stones.

It slipped open the case and grabbed a necklace, gold inlaid with a ruby as the pendant. It _ was _quite prettily crafted.

The Wanderer whipped around as the door slammed shut. Hadn’t it closed it?

But there was no other sound. It relaxed and turned back. 

It lifted the necklace up, perhaps hoping to see more from the feeble street lamps outside. But then it startled in shock.

The gemstone was missing.

And a shadow loomed in the far back, low growling and something flashing in the darkness. The Wanderer turned to look, and there the shadow of a man stood-

A man sleight but none too thin, with a nice cap adding to his shape and his glasses gleaming in the faint light.

But this was a dead man; the Wanderer had stopped his heart just two nights before-!

The man raises a hand; whether to point or flip it off, the Wanderer doesn’t know. He is gone and flying even as his name creaks from the man’s lips.

Although once more amongst the mist, the illusion is broken; the white fabric is too rugged against the water vapor, the man himself too human to meld with the night. As he flees frantically, a voice cries out, “_ Now! _”

Something slams into his back just as he trips, falling onto cloth of some sort; bodies, heavy, slam into him as they restrain his limbs.

He had fallen onto a carpet from the recently-closed Damien’s shop.

A young man nods in satisfaction; the gloom swirls away as more figures come forth. A tall lanky lad and a young lady from behind the other man, and then from the shop, a dog and-

And a young woman dressed as a man; her build isn’t too far off, coupled with the suit and hat. In the dark, easy to mistake with the recently deceased. Especially to a guilty conscience.

“Well Gang,” Fred announces, “looks like we caught our Wanderer. Velma?”

The outfit that drapes over him has no mask; he flinches as the woman dressed like Benjamin Arvast pulls out a pocket knife and saws through the fabric - he feels the faint tickle of the blade near his neck.

But Velma is careful, and once it’s cut, pulls off the mask with grim flourish. 

“William Fedson.”

All five of them had chimed in, but there had been no surprise; for once they had their suspicions early on. It was only a matter of confirming them.

William Fedson glared at them. “Who are you? How did you know?”

“Who we are is none of your business,” Fred stared him down evenly, “as for how we found out.” He jerks his head towards Velma. This is her stage, after all.

“It wasn’t too hard to figure out the pattern. Local and family owned businesses being taken down over night? Along with the ‘cryptic’ message? The only ones left alone are those that moved on - ‘progressed’. Obviously, someone was upset. Someone wanted change. And when people wouldn’t comply - when people wouldn’t sign _ specifically _ with the corporations _ you _ are on the board for - it wasn’t hard to follow your little trail.”

“It was Benjamin Arvast, really,” Daphne couldn’t help but add. “He was the most outspoken against the change. Tore up your offer and stomped it in the dust.”

“So you killed him,” Shaggy looked down, hair shading his eyes, “didn’t even to hide the body. Why bother, when people are so convinced that there’s a monster out there?” He looked up, glaring. “And there was, wasn’t there?”

Scooby growler. “Mronster!”

Fred just looked at him, eerily calm. “It wasn’t too hard to figure out your next target, either. Rachel lived out of town, and her shop would be undefended in the night.”

“Well, who’s gonna believe ya?” William snaps.

“The police, when they see all the evidence we’ve compiled on you,” Freddie _ chirps _, far too cheery for the situation. “Not to mention the costume you’re still wearing.”

He was obviously trying to undo the knots binding his hands.

“Don’t bother; it’d take you weeks to undo those yourself.” It was stated matter-of-factly - Daphne had done those knots and knew better than anyone.

Velma muttered something to Fred and then made her way inside the store. When William tried to scoot away, Scooby growled and snapped at him - even if the Great Dane had no intention of actually hurting anyone, his teeth could be quite fearsome when on display.

When Velma came back she nodded. “Police are on their way.”

It was tense silence for awhile. And then William went to threatening; to bargaining; pleading. Couldn’t they see he had wanted to help Cittiville? More revenue would help the economy, help the country! Everything he had done was in the name of progress - was necessary!

By the time a pair of cops rolled up, William Fedson had gone back to ranting a raving. “Unhand me! They’re lying! Meddling kids - they don’t know anything! It’s all lies - they, they threatened me with their stupid dog! It’s all a lie!”

“I’ll take him over to the holding cell, Nathan. You mind bringing the kids?”

His partner nodded. “Of course, Officer Graent.”

* * *

At the end of the day, it was a lot of paperwork.

The Mystery Gang took their time to explain their findings, and Velma shared a copy of her notes. It was decided that the kids had done no harm; a few calls had even been pulled in to Crystal Cove to reassure the officers of their trustworthiness.

After some interrogation, Fedson cracked. He admitted enough to get him convicted and further investigated. One thing was certain.

He would be tried for Benjamin Arvast’s murder.

While the businesses lost couldn’t be restored, at least some peoples’ minds could be put to peace.

For the Gang, it was. . .nice, in a way, to have the upper hand and avoid the chase.

Three days later - enough to sort through the facts, send in the necessary arrangements for the trial, and do what could be done to fix up this mess - the Mystery Gang were packing up their stuff in the Van.

There was a _ thunk _ once the final door closed, and Fred took a moment to adjust his mirrors.

“So Gang, where to next?”

Velma snorted; she was in the backseat with Shaggy and Scooby. “Wasn’t the recent _ murder _ enough?”

(It was a little sad to say that they were already pushing the horror away and joking; it was how they coped.)

“Like, yeah man. Can’t we, oh, I dunno. Take a break and go get a pizza?”

Freddie pouted. “But _ guuuuuuuuys _.”

“I’m down for pizza.” Daphne smiled sweetly when Freddie turned to glare at her.

“Ryeah, Rizza!”

This set the four of them chanting for pizza. Fred finally slumped over the wheel and relented.

“_ Fine _. But!” He turned and pointed, gesturing to them all. “After that, we’re going up towards Canada.” He turned back around, humming. “I heard that’s where the Wendigo is.”

Shaggy and Scooby instantly screeched, blubbering. Velma seemed to be excited and Daphne couldn’t help but laugh.

Fred smiled as he started the car.

Some things never changed.

**Author's Note:**

> To explain: There’s no chase sequence in this one, partially because I lowkey forgot, and partially because for once they had the jump on the guy. There wasn’t a need for snooping at night, and as a result the approach they took lead them to having an answer early on.


End file.
